I am fairly certain I will never attend another Bar Mitzvah quite like this one.
Huge bags of rice and many kilos of metoke had been in preparation since yesterday, and the cooking began at 6:30 AM this morning. At 8, I headed over to the Rabbi's to help his wife Tzipporah make 2 of her unique challahs, and she already had one bowl of dough rising when I got there, and gave me another to do. The Hill was abuzz, a tent set up by the synagogue, filled with chairs. The bimah had been moved outside. Huge speakers had been set up, extension cords coming from every which way to make the proper connections. So far, not sooo different from your average American affair (though I can guarantee the equipment was probably a little less fancy, and the price tag significantly lower).
The service began at 10 AM. It was punctuated by Lugandan psalms led by J.J. and accompanied by the guitar of J.J.'s son, Maccabee. (I got some great video footage and photos of a bunch of them--if anyone's interested let me know when I return to a stable internet connection!) When the Torah was brought out and returned, there was a festive procession to the synagogue's Ark. With the somewhat untraditional service, the classic hallmarks of the American bar mitzvah still found their place, in an amusing melding of cultural traditions: The bar mitzvah boy (an American, for those who haven't been following) read the weekday portion, after which both he and his parents spoke and the service concluded. Then, after water was passed around for washing, Tzipporah and I brought out the two challahs, which the parents cut and which we passed out to the 200+ assembled--the pieces were a bit small. But it was, happily, just as delicious as Friday's!
Following the challah, the gargantuan pots of food were brought out, and all present were served--those included members of the community, school children and others from the area who had heard about the festivities and come for some merry making and a good meal. (Somewhat awkwardly, those staying at the guest house had separate food set up, but I believe the extras were also distributed to guests.) As the music blared from the speakers, people conversed and ate, and when the food was defeated (it took about 20 minutes for it to go), the tent and chairs were moved and a "dance floor" cleared for what was to be the bulk of the day's celebration. From about noon until 7 the music did not cease, and many people (mostly kids) remained dancing, with few breaks for the entirety of the afternoon and evening. If you've traveled to Sub-Saharan Africa, this may go without saying, but Ugandans (and others, judging by the other African nations represented today) far outstrip their American peers in the dancing arena. I had several girls showing me movements and telling me "they're easy"--and I could not even begin to replicate them. When they asked me to demonstrate a move, I mostly flapped my arms around and made goofy faces. I'd give myself an A for originality, and around a D for skill.
Needless to say, it was not quite like the Western affairs I was used to, despite the sprinkling of American tradition. The two schools on Nabugoye Hill--a government primary and SK secondary--both cancelled school. A village+ took off from work and school to celebrate and boogie for 7 hours. And in lieu of Bar Mitzvah gifts, a boy from Florida requested donations to a Ugandan clinic, and came to its founders to celebrate this milestone.
Atypical, I would say.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
One more person, one less goat (QUEASY BE WARNED)
Today...was long.
School was school. I missed my first class helping Aaron with the seemingly interminable visa process, which is now, thankfully, up to the interview stage. The second and third lessons included the regular mix of frustration and small victories, and the few ambitious girls in the front row continue to drive me forward in my attempt to teach a third language in a second. Today also included the arrival of another volunteer, which brought the muzungu count to 6. A big change from two weeks of just a pair of us! Fun fact: All three lone travelers here are current or former religion majors.
Preparations were also under full swing for tomorrow's bar mitzvah--I spent a good hour with at least ten community members and guests poring over pans of rice, removing small pebbles and pieces of grass before the massive quantities will be cooked and served to the community.
Probably the most fascinating part of the day, however, was my first ever witnessing of the shechita (ritual slaughter) done here. There are a few community members trained to ritually slaughter goats (more for chickens, an apparently easier task), knowledge gained from rabbis who've visited the community and Rabbi Gershom, who learned to shecht while training in the U.S. The killing is done underneath a tree in a leafy area--better to soak up the blood--with one swift cut (with specified parameters as to they sharpness and quality of the knife, the required blessing, etc.) and the animal is held down as it bleeds out, after which it is hung by its legs from a tree and skinned and emptied. Various organs (including the lungs) are checked to make sure they are not blemished in a way that would make the animal treif (simply put, not kosher), and after the meat is separated it is salted. Shortly thereafter, it is roasted, several feet away from where it was killed. Cooking right away is the safest way to ensure the animal is edible, as refrigeration is limited and keeping a dead animal around, as many market stalls do, does not do wonders for quality. The whole process, from knife to spit, takes about an hour!
To be honest, the process was a lot less gruesome and disturbing then I expected. While I have sometimes half-jokingly called myself an "aspiring vegetarian," and while I know that kosher does not in any way mean humane, this particular process, from the way the goat was raised (free to graze where it pleased and on what it pleased) to the killing itself seemed to be the most ethical way one could use an animal for food. Though I'm not eating the meat here, my current thoughts lead me to believe that if animals were kept and ritually slaughtered this way in a marketable fashion in the U.S., that would make me feel a lot less guilty about the hamburgers I can't seem to give up.
School was school. I missed my first class helping Aaron with the seemingly interminable visa process, which is now, thankfully, up to the interview stage. The second and third lessons included the regular mix of frustration and small victories, and the few ambitious girls in the front row continue to drive me forward in my attempt to teach a third language in a second. Today also included the arrival of another volunteer, which brought the muzungu count to 6. A big change from two weeks of just a pair of us! Fun fact: All three lone travelers here are current or former religion majors.
Preparations were also under full swing for tomorrow's bar mitzvah--I spent a good hour with at least ten community members and guests poring over pans of rice, removing small pebbles and pieces of grass before the massive quantities will be cooked and served to the community.
Probably the most fascinating part of the day, however, was my first ever witnessing of the shechita (ritual slaughter) done here. There are a few community members trained to ritually slaughter goats (more for chickens, an apparently easier task), knowledge gained from rabbis who've visited the community and Rabbi Gershom, who learned to shecht while training in the U.S. The killing is done underneath a tree in a leafy area--better to soak up the blood--with one swift cut (with specified parameters as to they sharpness and quality of the knife, the required blessing, etc.) and the animal is held down as it bleeds out, after which it is hung by its legs from a tree and skinned and emptied. Various organs (including the lungs) are checked to make sure they are not blemished in a way that would make the animal treif (simply put, not kosher), and after the meat is separated it is salted. Shortly thereafter, it is roasted, several feet away from where it was killed. Cooking right away is the safest way to ensure the animal is edible, as refrigeration is limited and keeping a dead animal around, as many market stalls do, does not do wonders for quality. The whole process, from knife to spit, takes about an hour!
To be honest, the process was a lot less gruesome and disturbing then I expected. While I have sometimes half-jokingly called myself an "aspiring vegetarian," and while I know that kosher does not in any way mean humane, this particular process, from the way the goat was raised (free to graze where it pleased and on what it pleased) to the killing itself seemed to be the most ethical way one could use an animal for food. Though I'm not eating the meat here, my current thoughts lead me to believe that if animals were kept and ritually slaughtered this way in a marketable fashion in the U.S., that would make me feel a lot less guilty about the hamburgers I can't seem to give up.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Habari zako!
...means: "How are you?" in Swahili!
This is one of the five pages of Swahili words I picked up from a few of the Semei Kakungulu (secondary school) girls today after a visit to the hostel/dorm on the high school campus where some of them live. The girls who taught me were a mixture of those from Nairobi, Kenya, who speak it as their mother tongue, and other girls who had picked it up from interacting with the Kenyan students. Swahili is spoken widely in Kenya and used in schools there, but in Uganda it is mainly used as the language of the military, with local languages serving as the mother tongue of most and English as the language of education.
There is a small but solid number of students from Kenya at SK--some Jewish, some not--who have come over to be part of the community and others who have come simply for a better education. I wasn't exactly clear on how all of them found this school, but I should soon find out--the girls' hostel is a lot of fun so I'll definitely go back, and a few of them have already happily agreed to be interviewed!
I took my second peek into a yeshiva class this morning, wherein we discussed this week's Torah portion, Balak. It was a lively discussion (if somewhat basic) that was also joined by the bar mitvah family. Unfortunately, it was cut short as the rabbi is embroiled once again in the final stages of his election-contesting court case.
Otherwise, the day proved standard--some more spelling, more Hebrew (we soldier on with the Hebrew months, which are taking longer than I had anticipated). On my way home from Hadassah, it started pouring, and as is standard procedure in the village, I ducked under the nearest awning, to the delight of some wide-eyed kids who couldn't get enough of a muzungu. The mother eventually realized I was there and invited me in, and we had a nice get-to-know-you chat before the sun came out and I made my way home.
This is one of the five pages of Swahili words I picked up from a few of the Semei Kakungulu (secondary school) girls today after a visit to the hostel/dorm on the high school campus where some of them live. The girls who taught me were a mixture of those from Nairobi, Kenya, who speak it as their mother tongue, and other girls who had picked it up from interacting with the Kenyan students. Swahili is spoken widely in Kenya and used in schools there, but in Uganda it is mainly used as the language of the military, with local languages serving as the mother tongue of most and English as the language of education.
There is a small but solid number of students from Kenya at SK--some Jewish, some not--who have come over to be part of the community and others who have come simply for a better education. I wasn't exactly clear on how all of them found this school, but I should soon find out--the girls' hostel is a lot of fun so I'll definitely go back, and a few of them have already happily agreed to be interviewed!
I took my second peek into a yeshiva class this morning, wherein we discussed this week's Torah portion, Balak. It was a lively discussion (if somewhat basic) that was also joined by the bar mitvah family. Unfortunately, it was cut short as the rabbi is embroiled once again in the final stages of his election-contesting court case.
Otherwise, the day proved standard--some more spelling, more Hebrew (we soldier on with the Hebrew months, which are taking longer than I had anticipated). On my way home from Hadassah, it started pouring, and as is standard procedure in the village, I ducked under the nearest awning, to the delight of some wide-eyed kids who couldn't get enough of a muzungu. The mother eventually realized I was there and invited me in, and we had a nice get-to-know-you chat before the sun came out and I made my way home.
Makeup Post--Power Outage!
Hi--I've actually got to go teach in a few minutes, but here's a quick update on yesterday (no post due to an untimely power outage and not enough juice in my laptop).
Teaching was regular, with spelling perhaps being a bit more boring than usual--but we're working with smaller groups now, which is good because the kids who come seem to benefit a lot more and will hopefully find these skills useful.
In addition to spelling and Hebrew (we continued the Hebrew months with P6 yesterday!) I talked with Joseph, an elder man for the community who gave me a bit of a taste of how Jewish life has changed. It was really great to talk to an active but more "regular" member of the community--he's the community accountant, though was previously trained (at age 14!) as a mechanic. He told me about life under Amin, where they would gather a few in a room in a house and pray completely in Luganda, saying psalms and biblical passages such as that from Haazinu. (The Torah portion of Haazinu begins with verses in a poem-like structure, which made it a logical choice for chanting.) Joseph sang a little bit of it for me, which was a little hard to catch but still very cool to hear. He also related the struggles of intermarriage which I had heard from others and which remains one of the communities biggest religious issues.
More later!
Teaching was regular, with spelling perhaps being a bit more boring than usual--but we're working with smaller groups now, which is good because the kids who come seem to benefit a lot more and will hopefully find these skills useful.
In addition to spelling and Hebrew (we continued the Hebrew months with P6 yesterday!) I talked with Joseph, an elder man for the community who gave me a bit of a taste of how Jewish life has changed. It was really great to talk to an active but more "regular" member of the community--he's the community accountant, though was previously trained (at age 14!) as a mechanic. He told me about life under Amin, where they would gather a few in a room in a house and pray completely in Luganda, saying psalms and biblical passages such as that from Haazinu. (The Torah portion of Haazinu begins with verses in a poem-like structure, which made it a logical choice for chanting.) Joseph sang a little bit of it for me, which was a little hard to catch but still very cool to hear. He also related the struggles of intermarriage which I had heard from others and which remains one of the communities biggest religious issues.
More later!
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Road Trip!
Today marked a bit of a break from my routine and research, as I ventured away from Nabugoye and the Mbale area to visit Ramogi, the village I lived in last year as an AJWS volunteer. Going back was an amazing and surreal experience--from meeting this year's Volunteer Summer group to reuniting with old friends, returning to a place and a community I thought I'd never see again was quite the experience. It also really made me appreciate the ability I've had to get to know two very different groups of people, and made me appreciate each of them in very different ways. I worked with some amazing individuals last summer, and having spent more time in Uganda now, in a different environment, I am able to see how truly unique some of these people are.
After I returned home from the trip, beat and caked in dirt, I met the family who's holding their son's bar mitzvah here on Thursday. Three whole muzungus (the word used for white foreigners all over Africa) from south Florida was certainly a change, and it was interesting to here about their decision to make a bar mitzvah here and forgo the fancy U.S. party. Mostly, though, just the feeling of having a solid group of Americans here after a few weeks of quiet brings an interesting change in dynamic, and I'm curious how this will affect the coming week (though also excited for Thursday's affair!)
After I returned home from the trip, beat and caked in dirt, I met the family who's holding their son's bar mitzvah here on Thursday. Three whole muzungus (the word used for white foreigners all over Africa) from south Florida was certainly a change, and it was interesting to here about their decision to make a bar mitzvah here and forgo the fancy U.S. party. Mostly, though, just the feeling of having a solid group of Americans here after a few weeks of quiet brings an interesting change in dynamic, and I'm curious how this will affect the coming week (though also excited for Thursday's affair!)
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Shabbat Numba Three/Ghana Jews!
My third Shabbat here...I can't believe it's been almost three weeks since I left New Jersey! It's amazing how much I continue to learn every day, and how comfortable I've become here.
This Shabbat proved just as fascinating (but still relaxing) as my first two.
First off, the challah turned out quite delicious (thank you, thank you), despite the minimal rising. Naavah grabbed a huge chunk--after everyone had gotten some first, of course--and insisted that we eat it together, as co-bakers. She's five, by the way.
I also talked to Alex, a Jew from Ghana who is one of the rabbi's international students, about the story of his community. While he's still researching the history, a task he's taken on as he tries to revive it, he gave me an outline which was already intriguing. He said that about 150 years ago, there was a tribal king which wanted people to worship on Saturdays, keep kosher and observe various other Jewish laws. He's unsure where these practices were from and when they date from--whether these may be Jews who came to Ghana long ago, or influenced by others--he's still trying to find out! In any case, when Christian missionaries came in, they offered people money and other goods to convert to Christianity, and eventually most were convinced, including the king, while some just remained with little religion. The practices had essentially been lost until 1974, when a man Alex referred to as the "Founder" brought back practices according to the Hebrew Bible, the only text which they had to turn to. They kept up these practices until 1991, when the founder died, but following his death the practices fell into neglect once again. Alex's brother convinced him to revive the old ways, and after much prayer, a dream, and some revelatory reading of passages in Jeremiah, he decided to listen to his brother and adopt Judaism as a true faith. They've since formed a synagogue of about 100 people and have made contact with some of the same American groups as the Abayudaya, and Alex is hoping to go back to his community and teach them Hebrew and the Torah he has learned here.
This story and Shabbat in general also got me thinking about the theology of the Jews here and what has created it--factors ranging from the backgrounds of its spiritual leader(s) to the educational system here, a system which fosters little if any abstract thought. And because it is developing largely in isolation, there are inevitably differences from communities which, though they may be defined by certain beliefs, are still in conversation or at least within earshot of other theological strands. I'm still thinking about these issues, though it really increases my sense of this community as being sort of a grafted leaf of Judaism--and it is now to be seen how it grows on very different tree.
In other news: tomorrow, there is a family coming from Florida who will be celebrating their son's bar mitzvah here on Thursday with a service and a big party for the whole community. It should be quite an interesting affair!
Also tomorrow--I'm heading on a trip down memory lane--to Ramogi, the village I lived in last year. As luck would have it, Aaron is going to Tororo, the nearest city to Ramogi, and he's offered to take me, so I can't wait to visit old friends and say hi to this year's AJWS group!
Shavua tov!
This Shabbat proved just as fascinating (but still relaxing) as my first two.
First off, the challah turned out quite delicious (thank you, thank you), despite the minimal rising. Naavah grabbed a huge chunk--after everyone had gotten some first, of course--and insisted that we eat it together, as co-bakers. She's five, by the way.
I also talked to Alex, a Jew from Ghana who is one of the rabbi's international students, about the story of his community. While he's still researching the history, a task he's taken on as he tries to revive it, he gave me an outline which was already intriguing. He said that about 150 years ago, there was a tribal king which wanted people to worship on Saturdays, keep kosher and observe various other Jewish laws. He's unsure where these practices were from and when they date from--whether these may be Jews who came to Ghana long ago, or influenced by others--he's still trying to find out! In any case, when Christian missionaries came in, they offered people money and other goods to convert to Christianity, and eventually most were convinced, including the king, while some just remained with little religion. The practices had essentially been lost until 1974, when a man Alex referred to as the "Founder" brought back practices according to the Hebrew Bible, the only text which they had to turn to. They kept up these practices until 1991, when the founder died, but following his death the practices fell into neglect once again. Alex's brother convinced him to revive the old ways, and after much prayer, a dream, and some revelatory reading of passages in Jeremiah, he decided to listen to his brother and adopt Judaism as a true faith. They've since formed a synagogue of about 100 people and have made contact with some of the same American groups as the Abayudaya, and Alex is hoping to go back to his community and teach them Hebrew and the Torah he has learned here.
This story and Shabbat in general also got me thinking about the theology of the Jews here and what has created it--factors ranging from the backgrounds of its spiritual leader(s) to the educational system here, a system which fosters little if any abstract thought. And because it is developing largely in isolation, there are inevitably differences from communities which, though they may be defined by certain beliefs, are still in conversation or at least within earshot of other theological strands. I'm still thinking about these issues, though it really increases my sense of this community as being sort of a grafted leaf of Judaism--and it is now to be seen how it grows on very different tree.
In other news: tomorrow, there is a family coming from Florida who will be celebrating their son's bar mitzvah here on Thursday with a service and a big party for the whole community. It should be quite an interesting affair!
Also tomorrow--I'm heading on a trip down memory lane--to Ramogi, the village I lived in last year. As luck would have it, Aaron is going to Tororo, the nearest city to Ramogi, and he's offered to take me, so I can't wait to visit old friends and say hi to this year's AJWS group!
Shavua tov!
Friday, July 1, 2011
Challah "baking"!
(Keeping it light today, in honor of Shabbat :-))
This morning I officiated my first ever spelling "bee," dispensing words like "occasion" and "questionably" to a group of hand-picked (by the teacher, not me) secondary school students. My friend Samson from Kenya, who I wrote about in an earlier post, came out the winner. The format was a bit different from the traditional American version, but it's nice in that it keeps everyone in the game the whole time, at the end of which he or she who has spelled the most words correctly is crowned the winner.
After the bee I made my way down to Hadassah, where I sang some Shabbat songs with the kids. It's interesting how some of the songs they sing (or, as is often the case, mumble or scream) are identical to those I grew up with, though some, even English ones, are completely foreign to me. I'm humbled by their repertoire, which is clearly sourced both from within the community itself and gleaned from visitors who've made their way through here over the years. One of the songs they sang was actually taught to them by the two Israeli girls who were here for the first week of my stay, and they've taken it on in full force.
The highlight of the day, however, was a bit more domestic--I helped Tzipporah, the rabbi's wife, make challah. I'm not exactly sure how much help I actually provided, though she generously let me and her own daughter Naavah (yes, same name, different English spelling) do mixing and kneading. As ovens are scarce in Uganda and virtually non-existent in the village, the challah is "baked" in a pot, with an upside down cover which is covered in coals, so that heat comes in from both sides, like an oven. I'm a little nervous about the dough, as it didn't rise all that much despite the yeast, but here's to hoping it tastes ok!
Looking forward to another relaxing, instructive and revelatory Shabbat. I promised a bunch of secondary kids I'd help them with Hebrew, so we'll see how that goes!
Shabbat Shalom!
This morning I officiated my first ever spelling "bee," dispensing words like "occasion" and "questionably" to a group of hand-picked (by the teacher, not me) secondary school students. My friend Samson from Kenya, who I wrote about in an earlier post, came out the winner. The format was a bit different from the traditional American version, but it's nice in that it keeps everyone in the game the whole time, at the end of which he or she who has spelled the most words correctly is crowned the winner.
After the bee I made my way down to Hadassah, where I sang some Shabbat songs with the kids. It's interesting how some of the songs they sing (or, as is often the case, mumble or scream) are identical to those I grew up with, though some, even English ones, are completely foreign to me. I'm humbled by their repertoire, which is clearly sourced both from within the community itself and gleaned from visitors who've made their way through here over the years. One of the songs they sang was actually taught to them by the two Israeli girls who were here for the first week of my stay, and they've taken it on in full force.
The highlight of the day, however, was a bit more domestic--I helped Tzipporah, the rabbi's wife, make challah. I'm not exactly sure how much help I actually provided, though she generously let me and her own daughter Naavah (yes, same name, different English spelling) do mixing and kneading. As ovens are scarce in Uganda and virtually non-existent in the village, the challah is "baked" in a pot, with an upside down cover which is covered in coals, so that heat comes in from both sides, like an oven. I'm a little nervous about the dough, as it didn't rise all that much despite the yeast, but here's to hoping it tastes ok!
Looking forward to another relaxing, instructive and revelatory Shabbat. I promised a bunch of secondary kids I'd help them with Hebrew, so we'll see how that goes!
Shabbat Shalom!
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